Spark Subliminal Living
by Insomniac Owl
Summary: It was a morgue, of course there were dead people.


**Spark Subliminal Living**

_by Insomniac Owl_

-

The people here are nice. They don't shout, don't complain, don't get angry, don't cry. They don't throw things or rant about why their husbands left them.

He went to college to be a doctor, but ended up here. It's nice - he doesn't regret it. The patients are nothing like they had been at his short stay at Tokyo General. They are quiet, compliant.

"Sasuke? I'm going to leave soon, will you be alright by yourself?"

Sasuke looks up, down the aisle to where Kabuto - his only colleague here - is standing in the doorway. He has one hand pressed against the silver cabinets, and Sasuke mentally runs through a list, sorting the drawers by date, then by last name.

"You're leaning on Hatake," he says, and Kabuto rolls his eyes, shifting his weight so as to remove his hand.

"Sorry. Will you be alright?"

Sasuke nods, half grinning as he turns back to the cabinets. They glitter in their cleanliness, every one washed in antiseptic when a new

patient comes through - and sometimes more often than that.

"I'll be fine," he says. "You ask me that every time you leave."

Kabuto shrugs. A force of habit, he seems to say, then waves and passes from the doorway. Sasuke sighs, shaking his head. It used to annoy him, but he's gotten used to Kabuto's repetitions.

Inhaling, he moves down the row. The room smells like metal and antiseptic - familiar. And, like everything else about this place, calming.

The people here are calm too. They always lie so still when he's examining them, and when he's done they continue to do so. They slide backwards into oblivion, remembering nothing. They hold no grudges, they do not squirm like small children.

305-19374, Sasuke reads. Cause of death: unknown. A tick on his clipboard, moving on. Down rows of beds, silent and still. Beds for the dead, a shrine for silent, forgotten shells. It never ceases to amaze him, actually, how quiet it is here when Kabuto is gone. Normally there is the shuffling of papers nearby; sometimes he hums or plays music. Just him and all these patients. They're so quiet…

Outside, he can see winter gripping the windows. Frost and fog has built up outside, and it's no longer so much as a window as a shadow box, full of ice.

He hates the cold.

Sasuke shakes his head, brushing a bit of hair from his eyes. "Not important," he murmurs, leaning over a bit to take the next number. 305 -19382. Cause of Death….

Sasuke blinks, leaning away and trying again. Cause of Death….

Aagluckdubbbsssglusnapleedgluckadagrapiionthainick.

That's the word there.

He frowns. There are exactly fifty letters.

That must be significant.

"Aagluckdubbbsssglub…." He tries it out on his tongue, but it's clunky, awkward - like small furniture falling down a flight of stairs. He leans over to see if the next one is like that too, and it is, and so is the one he just checked. Of course, he knows _that_ can't be right, because the cause of the death for the last patient was unknown. It wasn't….

He pauses, quite forgetting the strange word. Outside the window, where he knows it is very _very_ cold - he can tell because of the ice and fog, and because the thermometer read twenty degrees when he came in, and that was _hours_ ago - there is a person. It's a boy, actually, and he has green eyes and silver hair, and Sasuke just can't say where he's seen him before.

The shiver of recognition is undeniable, however.

If asked, he would say that he stared at the boy outside - about his age, pale-skinned and pretty - for a full two minutes. The clock, which declares ten seconds (that's it? I could have sworn…), is lying. It's probably the shock that causes his arms to drop to his sides, the clipboard nearly sliding from his fingers.

His gaze with the boy outside breaks as he grabs for it, and when he turns back he isn't there at all.

Sasuke, his breath coming just a bit faster, his heart a few beats quicker, takes a deep breath and forces himself back to work. Cause of Death: lung cancer. And then, because he can't help himself, he slides the drawer out, revealing feet, legs, stomach, arms, chest, head….

"Oh God, Kimimaro…."

Green eyes, silver hair. Pale-skinned and pretty. A childhood friend more like a brother.

He can't quite remember why it was he liked this place so much.

The people here are dead.

**finis**


End file.
